With You Gone
by Corrosionz
Summary: Women like Kallen weren't made for times of peace.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Code Geass or any of its characters. They are sole property of Sunrise & CLAMP.**

**Rating: K+**

**Warnings: End of series spoilers.**

* * *

_" I cannot wake up in the morning without you on my mind. So you're gone and I'm haunted. Goodbye my almost lover." -_ A Fine Frenzy, _Almost Lovers_

Bells ring. The hustle and bustle of school life leaves her feeling drained. She should be invigorated by the chance to live a normal, oppression-free life. Instead she finds it dull, and diluted. It becomes more and more apparent as they days drag on that she was not made for times of peace and prosperity. Women like Kallen were made for war; adrenaline; blood and sweat; tears; curse words; and passion.

Passion.

He often spoke of passion like it was the answer to everything. Was that really true? And if it really was the answer, what was truly the question?

She glances about at her surroundings and sighs. Her life lacked passion. Greatly. And thus it made her wonder…had the question ever truly been asked?

The students bustle about her, laughing and yelling about plans that are to occur now that the day has officially ended the school's activities. One entirely too excited female even bumps into Kallen, her face red with embarrassment as she dashes past her and whispers a quick 'sorry'.

Kallen remains quiet; unmoving; always silent. She should be happy.

She is not. Instead she is merely tolerate.

Peace is not for her. Something tells her that she should have lost her life during the Rebellion. Peace was for those she cares for. But if she cannot share in this peace with them, then what's the point?

Her brother is gone. Her mother is fried. Her friends are oblivious. He is dead.

She grimaces, pulling her school bag higher up on her shoulder, dragging her feet as she blindly walks through the hall.

A sparkle of light catches her eye.

The now quiet halls whisper their stories to her. Her memories. Kallen runs her fingers nostalgically along the railing of the staircase.

Blue eyes take it in for everything it is. It isn't nearly as beautiful as it had been that day. The day the emperor had come to Ashford to make his demands. To set his plan into play.

Taking in a deep breath, she takes each step with determination. The closer she gets to the middle of the staircase, the harder it is to breath. The more afraid she becomes.

To anyone else this is merely an ordinary hallway. To her, this is her story. This is her everything.

That day he had followed her. No longer at her side. Or in front of her. But behind her.

As Zero he often walked with her at his side. But there would come a time when he would have to walk ahead of her. Leave her in waiting.

But that day-

She sets down her bag and sits with her back against the wall; watching. Reliving it. Reliving him.

He had been silent. She had thought he was being cold.

…

He was trying to be strong. Usually so brash and smooth with his speeches, that day she had found him uncharacteristically silent. It had unnerved her.

So she had filled the quiet. Now she regrets speaking. If she had remained as thoughtful as he had been, she would have been able to soak in more of him. The small things that are clouded over by time and meticulous tasks of day to day life.

Like the sounds of his footsteps along with hers. The soft whispers of his robes as he followed her. The jingling of the ornaments upon his royal attire. His soft breathing.

She draws her knees to her chest as she continues to watch. She wouldn't be able to stop the memories even if she wanted to.

'What am I to you?!'

She hadn't been able to control herself. There had been too many times that she had been so close to feeling his mouth upon hers. This was the crucial point. She would kiss him.

And she had.

He had looked startled before. His bright purple eyes widening as she snatched up his face and kissed him fiercely. At first. But once his mouth mated with hers, and their pillows of flesh moved against one another in a chaste kiss, her ferocity had faded. Instead her blood flowed through her like a raging storm. Her heart sang its praises. And for those few brief seconds: she was happy. Truly happy.

As she pulled away she caught his eyes slowly opening. Patches of Amethyst flashed at her through raven black lashes. And in those small pieces of window she could have sworn she saw the same thing. Happiness. A swirl of emotions that were quickly masked as he fully opened his eyes.

_She _had said goodbye. She had walked ahead of _him_. She had left _him behind_.

Or so she had thought.

Salt dressed in liquid fell down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against her huddled knees.

She had been so certain that their kiss would have made it hard to be faithful to his cause.

A cause she had thought was evil; manipulative. And in a way, it was. To her. To those who genuinely cared for him. For those that loved him.

But he had continued onward nonetheless.

_Selfish_.

As time marches on, and the people and scenery change; and her memories fade, and people are forgotten; she remembers all too well how it felt for him to leave her side and walk ahead of her. For the final time. The last time he would ever leave her.

And that time, he didn't look back.

She was left alone in his created peace. And thus she becomes a stereotype. Hopelessly wishing for the past to replay itself. A pitiful fool eagerly dreaming of yesterday.

Women like Kallen were made for times of passion.

…

Her passion died the day he left.


End file.
